


Reflections

by cazmalfoy



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Child Death, F/M, M/M, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazmalfoy/pseuds/cazmalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finally opens up to Ianto about his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I will warn you, right here, that there are only 11 chapters of this, and it is not finished. It was originally written in 2009.
> 
> I am trying to move all of my stories from live journal and ff.net onto AO3, and this is one of the unfinished ones. I don't want to delete it because I still live under the insane idea that I may finish it at some point before I shuffle off this mortal coil.
> 
> This starts just after Something Borrowed (TW:2x09).
> 
> *** WARNING ***
> 
> This contains references to the past loss of a spouse and child.

Ianto hadn’t meant to discover the box of photographs hidden in Jack’s desk drawer.   
  
He had been clearing the Captain’s desk of old post-it notes and out of date messages as well as emptying coffee cups when he saw that Jack had been in such a rush to get to the wedding and save Gwen that he had left paperwork scattered over the surface.  
  
Gathering the pages together, Ianto considered what to do with them. On one hand, he could leave them where they were and have the knowledge that he had left the office a mess annoying him all evening. Or, on the other hand, he could helpfully file them away for Jack to sort through properly in the morning.  
  
Deciding the latter was the best option Ianto pulled open the small drawer on the right side of the desk, intending to stow the paper there until morning when Jack returned from wherever he had disappeared to.  
  
To his surprise, he found a rusty tin sitting amongst the trinkets in the drawer. From its condition, it was clear the tin was at least half a century old.  
  
Deep inside Ianto knew he shouldn’t, but the temptation to look was so overwhelming he found it difficult to resist.   
  
His decision already made for him, he looked around to make sure Jack wasn’t about to walk in on him before carefully pulled off the lid.  
  
Inside the box were several sheets of faded paper so old it looked as though they might break if Ianto even touched them, a battered watch, various other seemingly insignificant items, and a wad of photographs.  
  
Being mindful of the picture’s age, Ianto reached out and picked the topmost photograph up, holding it lovingly in his fingers as he studied the image.  
  
It was an old fashioned photo; the kind where the subject would have had to sit still for hours to ensure it didn’t blur. It was faded around the edges and there were what looked like staple marks at the corner where it appeared to have been attached to something.  
  
Ianto smiled at sight of his lover dressed in his full uniform, his hat tucked under his left arm as he tried not to smile for the camera. One thing Jack always seemed to have trouble with was not smiling for photographs.  
  
“What are you doing?”   
  
Guiltily Ianto span around to face Jack who was standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed in confusion.   
  
Suddenly aware of what it looked like he had been doing, he shook his head, “Jack, this isn’t what it looks like…”  
  
Jack pushed himself away from the door and took a few steps closer to the desk. “So you weren’t rummaging through my drawers or going through my personal things?” he asked coolly.  
  
“No! Well, yes but, I didn’t look at anything else. I didn’t mean to, I…”  
  
The older man carefully took the picture from Ianto and slid it back into the box, pressing the lid closed with a resounding ‘click’. “Have you finished filing those reports on the shape-shifter?”   
  
It suddenly became obvious that Jack wasn’t going to allow him to explain his actions or the motivation behind them. With a heavy sigh he shook his head and made his way out of the room.  
  
At the door, he turned back to look at Jack who was standing with his back to Ianto, his hands on his hips as he stared at a blank space on the wall.   
  
“Jack?” When he didn’t get a response, he ran his hand through his hair and continued, “Doesn’t it get tiring carrying all those secrets around with no one to tell?”  
  
~  
  
Jack didn’t say a single word to him for the rest of the evening.   
  
Ianto had tried to present his boss with his usual cup of coffee, but couldn’t find the Captain. He presumed Jack had hidden himself away in his quarters. The hatch was locked from the inside and Ianto had no way of getting it open. He simply left the steaming cup on Jack’s desk before he headed back to his flat.  
  
The building was cold when he arrived home and it took him a while to realise what the problem was. The central heating had turned itself off completely and the air conditioning had kicked in, sending the whole flat into a freezing state.  
  
The problem was almost resolved when the doorbell rang once before becoming silent once more.   
  
Ianto frowned and glanced at the clock. It was almost eight o’clock and he hadn’t ordered any takeaway, so he couldn’t think who would be on the other side of the door. Plus, he hadn’t heard the buzzer signalling his guest’s arrival at the main door to the building.  
  
When he wrenched the door open, he got the shock of his life when he saw Jack standing on his doorstep, wearing his usual great coat with a pizza box in one hand and an ASDA carrier bag in the other.  
  
“Hey.” The Captain offered him a small smile as he held up the pizza box in front of him. “Care to accept my peace offering?”  
  
Ianto raised an eyebrow at Jack, but stepped aside nevertheless to let him enter the apartment.  
  
“God! It’s freezing in here!” Jack exclaimed, placing the carrier bag on the couch and the pizza on the coffee table.  
  
“The central heating was playing up,” Ianto replied, heading into the kitchen to get plates and drinks for them. “I think I’ve fixed it now.”  
  
Jack nodded his head, taking a few moments to admire Ianto’s attire. Instead of the usual suit he wore for work, Ianto was now dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a hooded ‘Green Day’ sweatshirt.   
  
Personally Jack preferred him in the suit, but seeing Ianto relaxed and off guard was something that rarely happened so Jack didn’t mind taking advantage of the show while he could.  
  
They sank onto the couch and ate in silence for almost a full fifteen minutes before Ianto asked why Jack was there.  
  
“You were right,” Jack mumbled around a mouthful of pizza before painfully swallowing and continuing. “I’ve lived here for so long… met so many different people… seen so many things I was never supposed to see. And, yeah, you were right. Carrying those secrets is tiring.”  
  
Ianto took a drink from his coke can, “You really should tell them to someone. I don’t necessarily mean me but… it can’t be healthy bottling all that stuff up.”  
  
Jack slowly reached out and covered Ianto's hand with his own. “I want to tell you about my past,” he whispered, running his thumb over the back of his lover’s hand. “I just don’t know where to start,” he admitted.  
  
With a smile Ianto brought his free hand up and caressed Jack’s cheek lovingly. “At the beginning?” he suggested.  
  
“That was a very long time ago.”  
  
Ianto shrugged and leant back on the couch, pulling Jack into his embrace. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
Jack grinned and rested his head against Ianto's chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat for a few minutes before beginning his tale


	2. Cardiff, 1869

**_August 1869_**  
  
He couldn’t believe he had gotten the date wrong. After all his years of travelling through time, he couldn’t even aim for the twenty first century without messing up big time. Maybe he had spent so much time with the Doctor that his lack of navigational skills had rubbed off on him.  
  
Jack’s eyes narrowed in hatred as he thought of the Doctor, and how he had been left alone on the Game Station while the Time Lord and Rose left to pursue other adventures in time and space.  
  
He had been alone on the Game Station for almost twenty-four hours before he decided on what he would do. Part of him had hoped the Doctor would realise Jack had been left behind and return, but the rest of him knew he was being stupid and the Time Lord was long gone.  
  
Cardiff looked a lot different from the last time he had seen the city. He had no idea when he was, but it was clear from the way the main roads were cobbled and the vehicles heading down them were horse and carriages that he was nowhere near the twenty-first century.  
  
He raised his hand, intending to leave the city immediately before groaning with frustration when smoke erupted from the Vortex Manipulator on his wrist. He had been using the same device for five years longer than the warranty suggested he should. It had been threatening to burn out for a while; he had just hoped it would hold out a little longer.  
  
A few people passed by, looking at him as though he were covered in bright green slime. Glancing down at himself, he realised why they were staring. He was still wearing the clothes Trine-e had given him, hours before he had faced the Daleks.  
  
A young man approached him nervously, placing a hand on Jack’s arm, snapping him back to the present. “Excuse me, sir,” he almost whispered, “are you lost?”  
  
Jack laughed humourlessly and nodded his head. “More than you could possibly know. Where am I?”  
  
“Cardiff, South Wales.” When Jack pressed for the date, the young man frowned but complied with his request, advising him that it was, “August 24th 1869.”  
  
“18…1869?” Jack stammered, trying to ignore the fact that he hadn’t just miscalculated by a little; he had arrived over a hundred years before he had intended to.  
  
The other man ran his eyes up the length of Jack’s body, taking in his unusual clothing. “Forgive my rudeness, sir, but perhaps you should consider a change of attire.”  
  
Jack sighed and raked a hand through his hair. The young man was right, dressed the way he currently was Jack stood out like a flashing beacon in the night. But he knew didn’t have any money to purchase new clothes.  
  
When he admitted this Jack was met with a sly, suggestive smile. “I’m sure we can think of some form of payment.”  
  
~  
  
Several hours later, Jack exited the tailor’s wearing a new suit, perfectly suited for the Victorian period he was now in. Tucked under one arm was a box with another two suits, ready to be put on when the one he was currently wearing needed laundering.  
  
His brief fling with Dafydd hadn’t been the first time Jack had used his body to get what he wanted from people and he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last. Still, he had managed to get three new outfits from it, so the day wasn’t a total waste.  
  
“Hey!” he cried when he felt someone push past him. He scowled when he saw a small boy about a foot away from him. Just as he was about to berate the boy for not watching where he was going, he realised the kid was standing in the street, about to be trampled on by a horse and carriage.  
  
“Kid, lookout!” Jack cried, dropping his parcel and grabbing the boy’s arm, pulling him out of the street to safety.  
  
When the carriage passed Jack turned the boy around. “You should watch where you’re going,” he advised.  
  
“Lloyd!” a hysterical voice cried from behind him and Jack turned just in time to see a young woman run up to them.  
  
Her dark hair was pulled away from her face, tucked neatly under a bonnet. Her eyes were wide with horror as she took in the sight in front of her.   
  
“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” she apologised, bowing her head and she stooped down to retrieve the package Jack had dropped.   
  
Jack indicated to the boy whose arm he was still holding. “He was about to run into the street. Almost got knocked over by that carriage.”  
  
The woman made a disapproving noise and shook her head at Lloyd. “I’m sorry, sir. Thank you for stopping him from being hurt. Apologise to the kind sir, Lloyd,” she instructed, her voice firm and leaving no room for argument.  
  
“Sorry,” the young boy muttered under his breath, looking at the ground sullenly, refusing to meet Jack’s gaze.  
  
Jack flashed him a grin and released his arm. “Just watch where you’re going in future. You could get hurt.”  
  
~  
  
The alehouse was almost empty when Jack wandered through its doors, package still firmly held under his arm. He wasn’t really looking for a drink, he had barely tasted a drop of alcohol since joining with the Doctor and Rose and found he’d somewhat lost his taste for the beverage.  
  
With a rough shake of his head, he pushed all thoughts of the Doctor to the back of his mind and crossed the bar, quickly scanning the room in an attempt to find someone who looked like they wouldn’t object to the pleasure of his company that evening.  
  
“Look,” the bar tender began, leaning over the bar and tossed his towel over his left shoulder, “either buy a drink or get out.”  
  
Jack hesitated and scanned the room once more. The bar tender must have seen something in his eyes that told of his true motives because his brow furrowed in annoyance as he glared at the other man.  
  
“Listen here, you. This is a respectable place and I won’t have my customer propositioned by your kind.”  
  
Jack eyes narrowed as he glared at the fat man. Coming from the fifty-first century, he had never really come across prejudice of any kind until he joined the Time Agency and learnt that not every species and century were as liberal with their sexuality as the people he had grown up with.  
  
Deciding to not comment and draw unwanted attention to himself, Jack turned on his heel and stalked out of the building, allowing the heavy doors to slam closed behind him.  
  
The doorway he fell into a few hours later was not comfortable in the slightest, but at least it was somewhere to shelter from the rain that was beginning to fall from the sky.  
  
Setting the clothes box behind him and leaning against it, so he would notice if someone tried to steal it, Jack tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He was exhausted after travelling from the Game Station and walking around Cardiff all day, trying to decide what to do.   
  
Deep inside he wished he was home, back on the Boeshane Peninsula with his family, but then came the familiar roar of those creatures and he was reminded why he had left home in the first place.  
  
He heard footsteps approach him and a hesitant voice ask, “Sir?”  
  
Jack slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the young girl he had seen earlier; seconds after he had saved Lloyd from being trampled on.  
  
“Are you okay?” she questioned further, crouching down at his side and trying to inspect him. “You’re not injured?”  
  
He shook his head and waved his hand dismissing her worried questions. “Not injured,” he murmured, yawning widely and allowing his eyes to fall closed once more. “Just tired.”  
  
There was silence and he risked opening his eyes to look at her once more. This time she was wearing a pensive expression and biting her lower lip with her gapped two front teeth. “You were going to sleep out here? In the rain?”  
  
“ ‘s not like I have anywhere else to go,” Jack replied, his eyes closing again.  
  
He let out a startled yelp when he felt the box he was leaning on disappear, causing him to fall back and hit his head on the hard wood behind him. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”  
  
“You can’t very well stay out here all night long.” She shook her head as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.   
  
She walked past Jack and unlocked the door, entering the building before turning back to the man sat on the doorstep. “Are you coming in?” she asked, one corner of her mouth twitching up a little.  
  
Jack couldn’t help his jaw falling slack as he realised the implication of her words. “You don’t even know my name,” he stated.  
  
“You’re Captain Jack Harkness,” she responded after studying his eyes for a short while. “But you haven’t always used that name, you were once known by something else. My name is Gwyneth,” she introduced herself. “Are you coming in?” she repeated.  
  
“How… How could you possibly know that?” Jack asked, following her inside in total bewilderment.   
  
Gwyneth chose not to respond as she locked the door behind him. The house appeared to only have two rooms, both of which had a bed in them.   
  
The larger of the two rooms also had a small cot in the corner, it didn’t look comfortable but at that moment, Jack couldn’t remember the last time an uncomfortable bed had appealed to him so much.  
  
“There is a bed for you here,” she nodded to the corner of one room.  
  
That was when Jack realised there was another bed; a small uncomfortable looking cot which was bare except for a thin blanket.   
  
She laughed a little at the astonished look that flew across Jack’s weary face. “Surely you didn’t think you were going to do anything but sleep,” she admonished with a shake of her head.  
  
Jack watched as she crossed the room. He couldn’t believe he was seeing someone who could have easily fit in somewhere other than Victorian Era Cardiff, right in front of him.  
  
She slipped into the room next door and, following her, Jack saw Lloyd sleeping on a small cot. Gwyneth checked the young boy was okay before pushing Jack out of the room and closing the door quietly behind her.  
  
“You can sleep here tonight,” she told Jack, adjusting the gas light on the wall a little. “Mr Sneed sleeps in the main house and rises at seven; you’ll do well to be gone before then. I won’t let you stay here any longer.”  
  
When Jack asked her why she was willing to put him up for the night, she paused for a moment before continuing her work. “You saved Lloyd,” she whispered. “Not many people would do that.”  
  
“He’s your son, isn’t he?” Jack asked, sitting down on the bed and looking at her questioningly.  
  
Gwyneth nodded her head slowly. “No one is supposed to know. It’s distasteful for a woman to engage in sexual relations outside of wedlock. To be with child and without a husband…” she shuddered. “It’s almost unheard of. When Mr Sneed discovered my condition, he was kind enough to help me hide Lloyd.”  
  
“What about his father?”  
  
“Dead,” Gwyneth replied shortly and Jack winced at her abruptness.  
  
He kicked off his boots and fell back against the thin pillow behind him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, truly meaning the words he spoke before he slipped into a sleep filled with nightmares of Daleks and Doctors.  
  
~  
  
 ** _24 December 1869_**  
  
He had been trapped in Victorian Cardiff for four months now. Four long months alone in a city that felt even more alien than all those planets he had visited in the past.  
  
Gwyneth hadn’t kept her promise of kicking Jack out after one night. Instead, she had taken him across the lawn to the main building and introduced him to Mr Sneed – the owner of the funeral home.   
  
It hadn’t taken long, a few bright smiles and compliments were all it took for Jack to secure himself a job, giving him something to do as he waited for Doctor if nothing else.  
  
His position wasn’t much: in reality he was nothing more than a glorified secretary, booking funerals and attending to the flowers people would have delivered in time for the next day’s service.   
  
Jack and Gwyneth had grown closer and closer over the past few months. Even Lloyd had grown fond of the man who liked to tell stories about strange places and even stranger beings.   
  
The small cot in the corner of Gwyneth’s quarters had quickly become Jack’s designated sleeping area, even if he didn’t always return after a particularly enthusiastic drinking session. When he did return Gwyneth would roll her eyes and mutter something about drunken men and the stupid people who took them home.  
  
Jack couldn’t help but find her attitude to his flippant sexuality refreshing. He had been worried she would act like every other member of the community, uptight and frigid, but he quickly found that he couldn’t have been more wrong about the young Welshwoman.  
  
In front of Mr Sneed and the funeral home’s visitors, Gwyneth was a perfect maid; with her head bowed low and her soft voice. But when Lloyd had been put to bed for the night and it was just her and Jack, she quickly came out of her shell, drinking the ale Jack had smuggled past Mr Sneed and talking about boys and sex.  
  
Jack’s own sexual advances to Gwyneth had been stopped in their tracks before they had even begun to move. To say that he was baffled by her lack of interest in him, would have been an understatement. He wasn’t egotistical, but many a lover had told him how good he was. So to find someone who didn’t want to bear witness to ‘The Jack Harkness Experience’ was somewhat of a blow to his pride and ego.  
  
When he woke up on Christmas Eve morning he had been surprised to push the curtains aside and see the ground outside the tiny window covered in pure white snow.   
  
As a kid he had heard the elders talking about ‘White Christmases’ on Earth. A time when white flakes would fall from the sky, coating the ground below with a fluffy layer which children would then destroy by throwing it at each other. He had always wondered what snow looked like – in his head he had seen white sand, not unlike that covering the Peninsula, brittle and rough to the touch.  
  
Pulling on his clothes eagerly he grinned as he darted into the other room to wake Lloyd. The young boy was still sleeping soundly and let out a started yelp when Jack shook him violently.  
  
When he saw the snow his annoyance from being woken so roughly disappeared and a short while later both boys disappeared from the house into the garden.  
  
The snow was surprisingly cold under his touch as Jack pulled a glove off and ran his finger along the wall. The elders had never mentioned any thing about the temperature of the ‘magic white flakes’. He chuckled in the back of his throat as he wondered what they would say if they knew the class joker was standing in a different world and time, discovering what snow was first hand (and proving them all wrong).  
  
It was beginning to get dark when Lloyd and Jack fell through the door, laughing and dripping wet from the snowballs they had thrown at each other.   
  
Gwyneth was immediately at their side, instructing them to strip out of their wet clothes so they didn’t drip water through the building or catch their deaths of cold.  
  
“You just want to see me naked,” Jack joked, toeing his boots off and slowly beginning to pry his wet clothes away from his cooling skin.  
  
Gwyneth rolled her eyes and threw the towel she was holding over his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jack,” she replied, bending down to help Lloyd unfasten his shoes. “If Mr Sneed sees you like this, you’ll be out in the cold tonight and that’s really no way to spend Christmas, is it?”  
  
Jack shrugged his shoulders and handed the maid his wet clothes before pulling the towel tightly around his waist. “Thanks, Gwyneth,” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek as he lead Lloyd to his room to get changed into dry clothes while Gwyneth returned to the main house.  
  
A short while later, Jack pulled the blanket over Lloyd’s now sleeping form and pressed a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead. He had surprised even himself when he had realised how protective he had become of the five-year-old over the past few months.  
  
He entered the house through the kitchen, heading for the sitting room. As he passed the gaslight flickered and Jack paused, tapping his index finger against the glass casing. That had been happening a lot over the past few months, along with the dead moving from their coffins and strange voices being heard in the middle of the night.  
  
“Where is that boy?” he heard Mr Sneed growl from the lounge. “Gwyneth fetch us some tea and find that boy. Tell him that if he doesn’t get down here, he’ll be out in the cold.”  
  
Jack heard a murmured reply from Gwyneth seconds before Mr Sneed continued speaking. “You’ll have to forgive my rudeness, sir. My assistant is a little lacking in customer service. He’s still training.”  
  
“It’s not a problem,” he heard a hauntingly familiar voice assure his employer. “And I’ve already told you, it’s ‘Doctor’ not ‘Sir’.”  
  
Jack grinned and ran down a few paces before stopping in his tracks and frowning. How was he supposed to know if the Doctor in the lounge was the correct incarnation of the Time Lord?  
  
Fleeing out of the house once more and bursting into the outhouse, he collapsed against the wall in a crumpled heap. He wanted to see the Doctor so badly, but knew he couldn’t risk revealing himself for fear of changing timelines.   
  
As he heard the door open he choked back tears; he couldn’t believe the Doctor was within reach but he couldn’t risk doing anything to help himself.  
  
He roughly brushed away tears when, not seeing him, Gwyneth nearly tripped over him.   
  
“Jack!” she breathed, crouching down next to him and resting a hand on his arm. “Mr Sneed’s asking after you.”  
  
Jack looked up and their eyes met; for a long time Jack found that he couldn’t look away, until Gwyneth spoke again. “You’ve met him before,” she stated.  
  
His eyes narrowed and he glared at her. “You promised you wouldn’t do that to me again.”  
  
Gwyneth continued studying him and Jack could feel her burrowing into his subconscious but couldn’t bring himself to shield his mind from her. “It was a different world; there are so many strange things. Large monsters with rotating heads and metallic arms.”  
  
Jack could feel the tears rising up again, along with the familiar feeling of hatred and abandonment he felt toward to the Doctor. “I can’t let him see me,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair and leaning his head back. “I… I can’t explain it but I don’t know if he’ll remember me.”  
  
“I’ll see if I can find any memory of you in his mind,” Gwyneth assured him, brushing his tears away and pressing a kiss against his forehead before getting to her feet. “Stay here and take care of Lloyd.”  
  
He smiled tightly and got to his feet, slowly making his way over to his bed and throwing himself down painfully. Hopefully the Doctor wouldn’t get curious about Mr Sneed’s mysterious employee and come looking. Jack didn’t know what he would do then.  
  
~  
  
Hours later, Jack looked up from the book he was reading when the door opened and Gwyneth entered the room, looking a little apprehensive.  
  
“Anything?” Jack asking, trying not to sound too hopeful.  
  
She shook her head and smiled at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of his bed. “There’s no memory of you at all.”  
  
Jack sighed and fell back against the pillows, hitting his head painfully on the headboard. “He hasn’t met me yet.” He rubbed the back of his head grumpily. “Great,” he drawled. “Just great.”  
  
The two friends lapsed into silence for a moment before Gwyneth softly whispered, “Jack, what do you know about the Rift?”  
  
His eyes flew up from where he had been staring at the bed in front of him and he studied her intently. “Not much,” he replied honestly. “Just that it’s like a tear in the fabric of time and space. If they’re really lucky, things can pass through it from time to time. Why?”  
  
“I’m going to open the Rift,” Gwyneth replied simply.  
  
Jack was sure he looked like something from a comic strip, he could feel his eyes bulge out and his jaw drop. “What? Gwyneth, you can’t… you can’t do that. The Rift, it isn’t safe.”  
  
“You’re the second person that’s said that to me.”  
  
“Because it’s true.” He took her hands in his and squeezed tightly. “Please… I’ve seen what opening the Rift will do. It’ll devastate the city; everything will be destroyed and people will die.”  
  
Gwyneth frowned and shook her head. “Clearly, we’re not talking about the same Rift. I have to do this, Jack. The bodies moving and the gas problems have all been my Angels, trying to cross into this world. They can’t do it without my help.”  
  
“Please,” he begged, “you don’t understand what will happen if you…”  
  
The instant she dropped his hands and her eyes hardened, Jack knew he had said the wrong thing. “Do not think for some moment that just because I am only a maid, I do not understand what is happening around me. I’m opening that Rift, Captain Harkness, regardless of yours or Miss Tyler’s arguments.”  
  
Jack watched helplessly as she stood from the bed and crossed the room, pressing a soft kiss on Lloyd’s forehead and whispering something in Welsh, before heading out of the room.  
  
Before she reached the door, she turned back to Jack who was still watching with fearful eyes. “If you are right and this is the wrong thing to do, Lloyd will need someone to care for him.”  
  
Jack nodded his head, whispering a promise that he would take care of him if something happened to her. She offered him a tight smile before walking out of the room, heading back to the main house and her Angels.  
  
It wasn’t long before he felt the ground shaking beneath him; the telltale sign that the Rift was being opened. He had felt it the last time he had experienced the crack in time and space being pulled apart. Many people had believed it was an earthquake then and he knew people would think the same now. Only a few people would know the truth.  
  
He heard a scared yell sound from the other room, followed by footsteps as Lloyd ran to him and threw himself in Jack’s arms. The former Time Agent remained silent as he curled his arms around the small child, trying to comfort him and assure him that everything was fine. Even though he knew it was a lie. Nothing would be fine once the Rift was opened.  
  
The explosion that followed the ‘earthquake’ shook the very foundation of the building, almost more than the actual quake itself; one of the windows shattering, sending broken glass flying everywhere.  
  
Jack’s instinctive reaction was to cover Lloyd’s body with his own, shielding him from getting injured too badly by the shrapnel.  
  
As the flying glass cleared, Jack looked out of the window and realised the funeral home was on fire. He could feel tears fill his eyes and he didn’t fight them as he held Lloyd against him.  
  
Over the rushing of blood in his ears, he could hear Lloyd asking where Gwyneth was but he remained silent. How could he tell the young boy that his mother was dead and not coming back?  
  
~  
  
 ** _31 December 1869_**  
  
Jack smiled sadly and slowly pulled the cover up around Lloyd’s shoulders. The journey from Cardiff to Swansea had exhausted the young boy, after the emotional strain he felt from discovering his mother was dead.  
  
He had promised Gwyneth he would take care of her son and he had done the only thing Captain Jack Harkness knew how to do properly. He ran. Together they had packed their belongings. Jack stole Mr Sneed’s horse and carriage – well, it wasn’t like he’d need it now – and left the city.  
  
It had taken him a long time to decide where he was going to go; he had spent a few days going slow as he tried to make up his mind. If he were being totally honest he hadn’t really known until he had pulled the carriage up to the front of a small cottage on the outskirts of Swansea.  
  
“Are you sure we can’t convince you to stay longer, Captain?”   
  
Jack looked up and studied the tired face of a middle-aged woman. The same middle-aged woman he had woken in the middle of the night and convinced her to provide them with shelter.  
  
“I think me leaving is the best thing.” He didn’t offer her a smile, his lips remaining a thin line across his face. “He needs to start anew and he can’t do that with me here.”  
  
The woman, Elen, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, noting how tense his shoulders were. She could tell by his posture and facial expression that leaving Lloyd behind would be one of the hardest things this stranger had ever had to face.  
  
“We will take care of him,” she assured him. “Me and Arthur have always wanted a child and thanks to you we’ve finally been blessed.”  
  
Jack placed a gentle kiss on Lloyd’s forehead, whispering his goodbyes before getting to his feet and roughly brushing away any remaining tears. “Thank you,” he whispered.  
  
Elen pulled him into her arms, almost crushing him with a tight hug. “He won’t forget you; we’ll make sure of it. He’ll always remember the man who saved him and brought him to us. And don’t you worry; his poor mother’s memory will live on.”  
  
He could feel tears rising again and knew it was time for him to be on his way. If he didn’t leave now, he would stay and he had to get back to Cardiff. If he didn’t he’d miss the Doctor and that was the only thing he could allow himself to think of.  
  
“Thank you,” he repeated, pressing several notes into her hand as he was shown to the door. “You’re a good woman, Mrs Cooper.”


	3. Present Day

**_Present day_**  
  
Ianto frowned and shifted Jack so he could look into his blue eyes. His expression softened when he saw that Jack was crying; he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realised it sooner. The Welshman had been so entranced with the story Jack was telling that he hadn’t realised how much emotion was in his lover’s voice.  
  
“You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want,” he whispered, cupping Jack’s cheek and wiping his tears away with his thumb.  
  
Jack laughed weakly and shook his head. “That’s only one year,” he reminded Ianto. “Do you really think you can live with just hearing that small snippet?”  
  
Ianto kissed him softly. “I could,” he nodded his head firmly. “Because just reliving that one memory is killing you.”  
  
“I can’t die, remember?” Jack’s attempts at humour fell flat and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I want… I need to tell you all this. It’s… I’ve been bottling this stuff up for too long. If I don’t talk about it I’m going to go mad soon.”  
  
The younger man continued studying Jack for a long while before he sighed and moved so they were lying on the couch, Ianto's back pressed against the back of the couch with Jack pressed against his chest.  
  
“So ‘therapist’ has suddenly become part of my job description, has it?”  
  
Jack laughed and snuggled further back against Ianto's chest. “Yep,” he nodded. “Only you’re cheaper and prettier than any therapist I’ve ever known.”  
  
He yelped when he felt Ianto's teeth nip at his ear lobe gently. “Cheeky,” he murmured, nuzzling Jack’s neck and breathing in his scent.  
  
Jack reached down and, after rummaging blindly for a second, found the carrier bag, which had somehow made it to the floor.  
  
Ianto watched as Jack withdrew the rusty tin of photographs and carefully pried open the lid. He could see the picture he had been looking at, the one of Jack in his uniform, sitting on top.  
  
Jack carefully flicked through the photographs for a moment before finding the one he had been looking for.  
  
The young maid in the photograph looked so familiar that it took Ianto's breath away. “Oh my… does she know?”  
  
Jack shook his head. “I don’t want her to,” he quietly admitted, running his fingers over the picture, seemingly lost in his memories once more. “It’d raise too many questions and I… I don’t think I’m ready for any one else to know.”  
  
He turned his head to look at Ianto properly and smiled when Ianto leant down and pressed their lips together chastely. “I won’t say a word,” he whispered. “I just can’t believe how much they look alike. It’s weird.”  
  
A chuckle escaped Jack and he looked back at the photograph once more. “That was my first thought when I saw Gwen. She’s just like Gwyneth was as well, not just in looks and name, but her stubbornness and loyalty… it must be genetic.”


	4. June - August 1882

**_June 1882_**  
  
He didn’t know what they put in the water in Cardiff but whatever it was, Jack loved it. He liked to believe he wasn’t vain – well not, particularly – but he had always dreaded getting old. That the day his hair turned grey and his skin wrinkled would be the worst of his life; he just knew it.   
  
If he was working out his age in linear time, he was 51 years old and, to him, it seemed as though he hadn’t aged one day in the thirteen years that had passed since his days travelling with the Doctor. Jack couldn’t explain why he didn’t feel or look any older, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. If he was going to stay looking young and gorgeous for another few years, who was he to complain?  
  
Jack wasn’t the only one who thought he looked good for his age. Many people, both male and female, had fallen under his charms in the past thirteen years and not one of them suspected he was over fifty, especially not when he was ready for round two not long after the bell for the first round had sounded.  
  
A young redhead caught his eye from across the room and her lips curled upwards in an embarrassed smile. Clearly she hadn’t expected Jack to catch her looking.  
  
With all the confidence he could muster – which was a lot – he swaggered over to the bar and ordered two drinks before heading over to her table. “Good evening, Madam,” he greeted, placing a drink on the table and sliding it over to her. “Would you mind if I joined you?”  
  
She chuckled dryly and shook her head, assuring him that she didn’t mind. With a grin, Jack slid into the seat next to her and immediately began turning on his charm. He complimented her on everything from her laugh to the stitching on her dress.  
  
As the sun began to set, Jack offered to walk her home. Feeling uncharacteristically nervous Jack reached out and took her hand in his when they reached her front door. With a whispered goodbye, he raised the hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against her warm skin before he turned and left her staring after him.  
  
~  
  
Two weeks later, Jack returned to the same place and found her sitting in the spot she had been occupying previously. Her back straightened when she saw him heading towards her and her brown eyes narrowed.  
  
“You’ve returned, I see,” she spoke, cupping her drink in her hands and taking a small sip.   
  
He flashed her one of his oh-so-charming grins and slid into the seat opposite her. “How could I stay away from someone as beautiful as you?” he whispered, reaching out and running his fingers over her hand.  
  
Henrietta blushed lightly and turned her hand over, allowing Jack to interlace their fingers. “You are indeed a charmer, Captain Harkness,” she murmured.  
  
Jack finished his drink and got to his feet, raising an eyebrow questioningly. “Would you allow me to escort you home, miss?”  
  
She smiled and nodded his head, allowing him to tug her to her feet. Her breath hitched when he leant closer and pressed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Even though they had only met once before, something about this man seemed so wonderfully right, so perfect that she couldn’t resist his charms.  
  
As they walked he held his arm out, allowing her to loop her arm through his. She laughed quietly at a joke he told and something inside him danced happily; she had a beautiful laugh to match her gorgeous smile.  
  
They paused at the door and Jack prepared to bid her goodbye and leave for the evening. To his surprise, when he moved to kiss her cheek, she turned her head and their lips met softly.  
  
His blue eyes met her brown orbs for a long moment, each trying to study the other and determine their motives. With a light groan, Jack brought his hand up cupping her cheek as he ran his tongue over her lips, silently asking for permission.  
  
She didn’t hesitate in parting her lips, allowing his wandering tongue entrance as one of her hands found their way to his wonderfully soft hair.  
  
When the need for oxygen became too much, Jack threw his head back, gulping for breath. “Haven’t been kissed like that in a long time,” he whispered, looking back at her flushed face.  
  
Henrietta smirked and leant closer, pressing feather soft kisses along his jaw before pressing her lips against his once more. “Would you care to join me for breakfast?” she whispered, her breath ghosting over Jack’s lips.  
  
Jack frowned deeply, the haziness in his mind not allowing him to think clearly. “It’s eight in the evening. A little early for breakfast, don’t you think?”  
  
A quiet chuckle escaped, filling the quiet street around them. “I know,” she replied, taking his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together as she led him inside.  
  
~  
  
 ** _August 1882_**  
  
The bedroom curtains were open slightly and the early morning sunlight fell against the bed, warming his naked skin wonderfully. Outside he could hear a bird chirping on the roof and the unmistakable sounds of Cardiff coming back to life after a peaceful night’s slumber.  
  
Jack rolled over onto his side and smiled to himself when he saw that his companion was still sleeping. Her wonderful hair splayed out over the white pillows surrounding her and her gorgeous face relaxed.  
  
“It’s rude to stare,” she murmured, not changing her facial expression nor opening her eyes.  
  
He grinned and pressed a soft kiss on her shoulder, loving the taste and the feel of her delicate skin. “I wasn’t staring. Merely appreciating something beautiful.”  
  
She opened her eyes and looked over at him, unable to stop the corners of her mouth turning up in a kiss. “You are quite the charmer, Captain Harkness,” she informed him, running her fingers up his chest teasingly.  
  
Jack groaned lightly and captured one hand in his before leaning over and drawing Henrietta into a soft kiss.  
  
The softness and tenderness soon gave way to passion and lust, and Jack quickly found himself pressing Henrietta against the mattress as he set himself the task of making her squirm and plead for him to take things further.  
  
~  
  
In the aftermath of their lovemaking, Jack fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving heavily as he tried to regain his breath. His lungs were burning and he was sure his limbs were on fire. But as he looked over Henrietta, who was breathing in a similar fashion, he decided a fiery death for all his muscles was worth it.  
  
She caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. “What did I tell you about staring?”  
  
He laughed and shifted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her thin frame and pulling her back against his own muscular body. “Sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against her hair when she tucked her head under his chin, leaning against his chest.  
  
For a long moment, they lay in companionable silence, each of them content in the other’s presence and neither wanting to break the quiet spell that had fallen upon them.  
  
When Jack did speak, the words were so quiet he wasn’t entirely sure that he had said them out loud. “Marry me.”  
  
Henrietta’s previously limp body tensed next to his and she leant up on an elbow, enabling her to look down into his eyes. “What did you say?” she whispered, looking uncertain of both his words and herself.  
  
“Marry me,” he repeated, a little louder this time. He meant what he was saying; even though there were things about him that Henrietta could never know (him not being from time was just one of them), he knew that he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with the wonderful woman next to him.  
  
When he assured her of this, Henrietta’s face was almost spilt into two by a large smile. “Oh, Captain,” she whispered, leaning over and pressing her lips against his gently. “I’ve been hoping you’d ask me that question for weeks.”  
  
Jack eyebrow rose and he looked at her in surprise, “You have?”   
  
She nodded her head, giggling when Jack rolled her off of him and climbed out of the bed, wandering around the room naked, not caring about modesty as he hunted for something.  
  
He let out a cry of triumph when he located his long coat in the corner. He manoeuvred himself so his body was obstructing Henrietta’s view as he retrieved something from its pocket.  
  
“Jack, what…?” She trailed of when he returned to the bed and gracefully dropped to one knee next to it.   
  
“Henrietta, please will you do me the honour of being my wife?” he asked, flipping the box open and revealing a simple gold band, encrusted with a single sparkling diamond.  
  
Jack hoped she said ‘yes’, he had spent all the money he had made from various odd jobs he had accepted on that one ring. If she said ‘no’ there would be no way he could get his money back now.  
  
Tears spilled down her cheeks and for a second Jack suddenly thought he would be laughed at and turned away. When she nodded her head mutely, it didn’t sink in to his mind and she had to verbally answer him before he snapped out of his daze enough to pull the ring from the box and slide in on to the fourth finger on her left hand.  
  
“Yes,” she whispered, running her hand around the back of his head and pulling him onto the bed and into a passionate kiss. When they parted for air, she smiled and ran a hand over his cheek. “Yes, I will marry you, Captain Jack Harkness.”


	5. Present Day

**_Present day_**  
  
Jack had expected Ianto to react badly to the Time Agent’s confession of having being married previously. However, when Ianto remained silent waiting for Jack to continue with his story, he frowned and sat up on the couch.  
  
“Is that it?” he demanded, looking down at his lover who was looking up at him in confusion.  
  
Ianto frowned and moved his head, trying to rid himself of the crick in his neck. “What do you mean?”  
  
He just stared at him blankly. “I’ve just confessed I was married and never told you, but you’re lying there like it’s not a big deal.”  
  
The young Welshman pushed himself up and moved so he was sitting next to Jack. “Jack, you’re over a hundred and fifty years old,” he reminded him. “To expect you’ve never met someone you wanted to share your life with would be stupid and petty, not to mention very naïve.”  
  
Jack bit his lip in a manner that Ianto found strangely attractive. “You mean it doesn’t bother you?” he whispered quietly, making him sound like he was a nervous ten-year-old.  
  
“Not in the slightest,” Ianto shook his head. “Although, if you don’t tell me what happened, I’m going to be annoyed.”  
  
When the Captain jumped to his feet and held his hand out, Ianto raised an eyebrow. “It’s past midnight and this couch isn’t getting any comfier. I’ll tell you the rest in bed.”  
  
Ianto rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be dragged through his apartment. “I have a feeling this is more likely to end in sex rather than story telling.”  
  
Jack tossed his head back and laughed loudly. “Oh no… You’ve opened up a can of worms now. You’re hearing my stories, Mr Jones, whether you want to or not.”


	6. March 1892

_**March 1892**_  
  
He huffed and brushed a lock of hair away from his face. He didn’t understand it. It had been over twenty years since he had arrived in Cardiff, yet every time he looked in the mirror, he had a hard time remembering he was over sixty.   
  
“I don’t get it,” he said out loud, speaking more to himself than the person on the bed, whom he could see reflected in the mirror.  
  
He didn’t elaborate further because he knew there was no way his wife would understand what his problem was. Hell, even he didn’t know what was wrong with him.   
  
The only thing he did understand was that since he had been abandoned by Rose and the Doctor (although he suspected it was more the Doctor’s fault than Rose’s), he didn’t appear to have aged a day. Clearly something had happened to him in the time he had been unconscious on the Game Station, although what that was he had no idea.    
  
A groan of pain caught his attention and he finally turned away from the mirror, kneeling on the bed next to Henrietta.  
  
“Be careful,” he whispered, brushing her sweaty hair away from her face and easing her back against the pillows. “The doctor said you needed to rest.”  
  
She glared fiercely at him but allowed herself to be lowered onto the mattress. “I am a grown woman, Jack Harkness. I do not need someone taking care of me.”  
  
He winced at both the tone of her voice and her use of his full name. When he had been a kid, him and his friend’s had joked they only heard their full names when they were in trouble and, even after all these years, the same still rang true no matter how far away from home he was.  
  
“I’m only trying to help.” He made every effort to keep his voice even and calm.   
  
It had been four days since the contractions had started and each day the pain was becoming more and more unbearable for Henrietta. He wished there was something he could do to help her, but his insufferable mother-in-law had taken in upon herself to move into their house and help her only daughter through the difficult child birth.  
  
In the past four days, Jack had been called every insult his exhausted wife could think of (and some he was pretty sure she had made up off the top of her head). Given any other circumstances, Henrietta would have never been so vocal about her annoyance at Jack, especially not in the presence of others, yet her hormones seemed to be in control and there was no stopping her once she started verbally assaulting him.  
  
Her face crumpled and she stroked his cheek. “I know,” she whispered, running her thumb over his lower lip. “I’m sorry.”  
  
That was another thing about his pregnant wife he couldn’t understand. She could be furious with him one second and in the next he would find himself with an armful of her as she tried to unfasten his trousers with her teeth – not that he complained about that last part.  
  
“Captain, please refrain from molesting my daughter in her current condition,” an irritating voice cut through the air and Jack pulled away from his wife to glare at the newcomer.  
  
“My name is Jack; I’m not molesting her, she’s my wife; and she’s pregnant, not ill.” He scowled and folded his arms across his chest, aware he was acting like a petulant child but not caring at that moment.  
  
“Which I’d like to ensure remains the case,” Evelyn returned his scowl and pushed him from the room, just as a doctor entered carrying a large black carry case.   
  
“He’s allowed to be in there, but I’m not?” Jack tried to not squeak indignantly.  
  
“Are you a doctor?” she questioned, resting her hand on the door.  
  
“No, but…”  
  
A self-satisfied smirk graced her face and she nodded her head. “Then you’ll do well to leave us in peace for a few moments.”  
  
~  
  
The doctor exited the room half an hour later, with a grave expression etched on his face. Jack knew in that instant whatever he was about to tell him was bad news.  
  
“What’s wrong with her?” he whispered, running his fingers around the edge of his teacup, unwilling to look into the man’s eyes as he delivered the information.  
  
“The baby is ready to be born,” he advised Jack. “Her mother is preparing the room for the birth; Mrs Harkness has requested you join her.”  
  
Jack smiled at that. Of course he would be there for the birth of his first child. After all the miscarriages and health scares they had experienced in the past ten years, being at her side was the only comfort he could offer Henrietta.   
  
“The bad news is,” the doctor was speaking again and Jack had to force himself to pay attention, “Mrs Harkness’ heartbeat is erratic. There’s no calming her, we’ve tried sedatives but they don’t seem to having any effect. Also, she’s weak, very weak. Has she been eating since the contractions began?”  
  
He shifted guiltily in his seat and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to make her eat and I know Evelyn has, but she just won’t accept the food. She kept saying it made her feel ill and any food she did eat wouldn’t stay inside for very long. She said it made more sense for her not to eat. Neither of us knew what to do.”  
  
The elder man placed a hand on Jack’s arm, squeezing in what he hoped what a soothing gesture. “You mustn’t blame yourself, my son. Although, you must prepare yourself for the worst.”  
  
“The… The worst?”  
  
He took his glasses off and gave them a quick polish with his handkerchief before placing them back on his nose once more. “Mrs Harkness’ physical health has deteriorated so much that she may not be able to handle the trauma of child birth. The prolonged labour won’t have helped either; she may be too weak to continue. I think you should take a few moments to prepare yourself for the possibility of her not surviving.”  
  
The blood rushing in Jack’s ears almost drowned out his next question. “And the baby?”  
  
“Hopefully, your child will be healthy, although considering your wife’s current physical state, it’s possible the baby hasn’t been receiving the nutrients required for complete development. I’m sorry, Captain Harkness.”  
  
“When you’re ready, Mrs Harkness needs you upstairs.”


	7. Present Day

**_Present day_**  
  
The Rift had been blissfully quiet all day, except for the one flare, which turned out to be a spaceship full of lost aliens.   
  
Apparently they were looking for Jupiter, took a wrong turning and ended up on Earth. Although, how they could have mistook Earth for the largest planet in their solar system, Ianto had no idea. Tosh had reprogrammed their computer system and they were soon on their way, thanking them all in their native tongue.  
  
Ianto grinned triumphantly as he finished brewing the last cup of coffee. Carefully placing the steaming pot onto the tray, he slowly made his way through the Hub, distributing the beverages to his colleagues.  
  
He bypassed Gwen’s desk, having remembered she was currently on her honeymoon just as he had reached for her usual cup in the kitchen.   
  
Tosh thanked him distractedly, never looking away from the computer screen. He chuckled lightly when the pencil she was balancing between her teeth as her fingers flew over the keys in front of her muffled her words.  
  
Owen looked up expectedly when Ianto stopped in front of his desk. He grinned widely and nodded his thanks to the other man as he accepted his own cup from Ianto. Both knew he couldn’t drink the steaming liquid he still loved having a cup in his hands, allowing him to smell the coffee and savour the strong scent of it.   
  
Although Ianto was pretty sure Owen being able to smell the drink was all in his mind, since his touch and taste senses had vanished upon death, it seemed likely that his sense of smell had vanished as well. That fact didn’t seem to bother Owen though, so Ianto was more than happy to make the doctor his usual coffee if it offered them all some sense of normality.  
  
Jack was sitting in his chair; his booted feet up on the desk as he leafed through the file resting on his legs. He looked up and grinned when Ianto entered the room, carrying two cups in his hands.  
  
“Coffee, Sir,” he said, placing a cup on the coaster Jack never used.  
  
A whispered ‘thank you’ passed between them as Jack savoured his first sip, his eyes closing in pleasure like they always did.   
  
When Ianto turned to head for the door, Jack called after him, “Where are you going?”  
  
Ianto pointed outside the office. “Work to do.”  
  
Jack shook his head, indicating that Ianto should close the door and sit down opposite him. “I believe I still have a story to finish telling.”  
  
“I…” he shifted a little. “I would have thought you might want to wait a while, Jack,” he eventually said. “I know you cried yourself to sleep last night.”  
  
To his credit, Jack actually did try not to blush but, judging by the look on Ianto's face he didn’t manage to pull it off completely. “I know dragging all these memories up is going to be difficult but I want you to know, Ianto.”  
  
Ianto watched as Jack reached into his drawer and pulled out the familiar rusty tin that had started this whole trip down memory lane in the first place.  
  
The ring Jack pulled out and handed to his lover was gorgeous. So plain and simple, but oh so very stunning at the same time. Flipping the ring over, Ianto could read the words inscribed on the inside of the band.  
  
Henrietta Harkness, 1852 – 1892  
  
“It’s beautiful.” Carefully he handed the ring back to Jack, who closed his eyes and kissed it softly before placing it back in the box.   
  
He hadn’t been lying the previous night; he didn’t feel any jealously towards his lover’s deceased wife. Only sorrow that they hadn’t lasted longer and that Jack’s son had died before he had been given a proper chance at life.  
  
“She didn’t know that you couldn’t die, did she?”  
  
Jack shook his head and laughed a little. “I didn’t know I couldn’t die ‘til later that year.”


	8. August 1892

**_August 1892_**  
  
Storm clouds were gathering on the horizon and in the distance he could already hear the telltale roll of thunder as it slowly made its way towards the ocean.   
  
A ship was slowly making its way into the harbour and it wouldn’t be long before the night shift began their work processing the immigrants coming into the country in the hopes of a better life.  
  
Jack had been on the same ship, in exactly the same situation, not too long before. But he had been lucky; because of his past experience, imitating an American was as second nature to him as breathing. A few faked documents and charming smiles were all it took to convince the immigration officials at Ellis Island that he was travelling back to the country to begin work on the island.  
  
It was raining when he left the building, a confiscated bottle of liquor under his arm, but he didn’t care. If he died of pneumonia it would be a welcome release for him. Officially there was no drinking allowed while they were still on the clock, but the rules didn’t matter when supervisors turned a blind eye if an employee arrived anything but sober.  
  
Jack could still remember vividly the last time he had been sober, it had been the last time he had kissed his wife and told her he loved her. Fiercely he shook his head and pushed those thoughts aside, lifting the bottle to his lips. If he could still remember, he clearly wasn’t drunk enough.  
  
He needed to head back to the main land and find somewhere that stayed open for as long as it took for him to forget. Surely it wouldn’t be difficult to find somewhere, otherwise what was the point of being in the ‘City that never slept’ if bars didn’t stay open for twenty-four hours a day?  
  
As he walked, Jack’s eyes never left the cobbled street in front of him and he didn’t see the other man heading in his direction until he had walked straight into him.  
  
The former Time Agent stumbled back when he collided with another body.  
  
“Watch where you’re going!” the other man cried, his accent foreign and his English broken.  
  
Jack rolled his eyes and righted himself. “No need to be so rough,” he muttered, trying to brush dirt from his shirt, eventually he decided his shirt was so dirty there was no point. “Unless you’re into that. In which case, I’m game.”  
  
The man’s eyes narrowed and he stared at Jack in confusion. “What?”  
  
“I said I’m game if you are…” The other man stared at him blankly. “You know, rough and tumble? Getting a leg over? Sex!” he cried eventually.  
  
The last word had apparently being the wrong thing to say because the man’s face went beetroot red and he took a step forward, jabbing a thick finger hard against Jack’s breastbone. “Faggot,” he stated; he might not have known much English, but apparently that was a word he knew.  
  
Normally Jack would have let it drop, just turn on his heel and walk away, but the alcohol in his system was clouding his judgement and he took a step closer to the man, getting so close their noses were almost touching each other.   
  
“My mistake, I thought this was the gay district…” He pressed his lips hard against the man’s for a second before stepping back and adding, “I mean, I saw you and thought…”  
  
Jack didn’t have time to finish his insult before the man reached into his belt and withdrew a small pocket-knife. The flare of pain that flew through Jack’s body felt glorious to the blue eyed man. After all his hoping and praying for a swift death, a stranger on Ellis Island had been more than happy to carry out his most wanted desire.  
  
The man smirked self-appreciatively as he watched Jack fall to the ground, clutching his stomach in pain. Bleeding to death was slow, Jack thought distractedly as the edges of his world began to go black. He could feel his heart slowing, each beat becoming more and more painful as the organ tried to continue pumping blood around his body.  
  
“Thanks very much,” he tried to croak, but his lips and throat were suddenly drier than they had been for months.  
  
Then the world around him disappeared and Captain Jack Harkness died aged 61.  
  
~  
  
He didn’t know what was happening but to Jack it felt like he was having a heart attack, which was strange considering he was positive that he was already dead. There was something around his heart, squeezing painfully and dragging him forward. Pulling him closer and closer until…  
  
Jack woke with a start, his lungs burning as he painfully gulped in large quantities of oxygen. “What the…?” he panted, looking around at his surroundings.  
  
In the dim light of an almost full moon he could see his shirt was stained red.   
  
“Okay, so I didn’t imagine being stabbed after all,” he muttered to himself, climbing to his feet.   
  
He had barely righted himself before he doubled over in pain and fell to the ground. It felt as though the wound was on fire and there was nothing he could do to stop the feeling.  
  
With a cry of anguish he tore his shirt open and watched in horror as the torn flesh began to fix itself, melting together until the wound itself was invisible. The only evidence of his injury was the blood staining his shirt.  
  
It was at that moment Jack realised he was sober for the first time since his wife and child had been torn from him. Something was wrong with him; that much he was certain of, something very wrong.  
  
He also knew that he had no choice but to return to Cardiff and wait for the Doctor. Although how long that would take he had no idea.


	9. Present Day

**_Present Day_**  
  
Ianto leant back in his chair and glared at Jack.   
  
“What?” Jack asked, shifting in his seat, uncomfortable under the weight of Ianto’s gaze.  
  
“You lied to me,” Ianto stated, folding his arms across his chest. “You told me you found out you couldn’t die by getting shot through the heart.”  
  
“Ah,” Jack murmured, running his hand over the back of his neck and blushing lightly. “I’d forgotten about that,” he admitted.  
  
Ianto rolled his eyes. “So which one is the truth?” he pressed.  
  
“Being stabbed,” he rushed to assure his lover. “I… When I got back from being with the Doctor, I only told you I got shot because it’s what I told him. I don’t know… it sounds more heroic than being stabbed.”  
  
The Welshman raised an eyebrow. “More heroic?” he repeated. “You changed getting stabbed to being shot because it was ‘more heroic’?” Jack nodded his head bashfully. “Why the Hell would you do that?”  
  
Jack closed his eyes for a second before reopening them and focusing on Ianto. “If I had told you the truth, I would have had to explain why I was careless enough to let someone get that close to me. And that would have meant dealing with the memories of Retta, and I wasn’t ready for that.”  
  
Ianto smiled and got to his feet, moving around the desk, not stopping until he was standing next to Jack. “I’m glad you finally told me,” he whispered, running his hand over the back of the older man’s head, twisting his fingers gently around the short strands.  
  
Jack looked up at him and grinned as he leant against Ianto’s torso, turning into his embrace. “Me too,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the closeness of his lover.  
  
As much as both of them would have loved to spend time enjoying each other’s presence the Rift alarm went off and they could hear their names being shouted from across the Hub.  
  
Jack sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “Back to work,” he groaned, smiling at Ianto.  
  
The other man grinned and kissed him softly. “Yeah,” he whispered. “To be continued?”  
  
The immortal Captain laughed and nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’m getting good at this story telling thing.”


	10. October 1899

**_October 1899_**  
  
There was that feeling again, like someone had an iron clad grip on his heart and wasn’t relinquishing control for anything. Jack had no idea how many times he had died, but he did know that returning to life wasn’t getting any easier.  
  
He jerked alive with a gasp of air, the same way he always did, and groaned when he realised the bottle from the bar was still protruding from his stomach. “Not again,” he groaned, taking a deep breath and bracing himself against the cart he was leaning against.  
  
With a groan he managed to wrench the bottle free and toss it to the side. He frowned uncomfortably when he realised he was being watched and looked up. Standing in front of him were two women; the younger with dark hair while her older companion had blonde hair pulled back in a bun. Both were looking at him in disdain.  
  
“Ladies! Torso of steel, shilling a feel! Any takers?” Neither of them moved and Jack pulled himself to his feet, staggering when he felt the familiar feeling of his skin knitting back together.   
  
“Bar fight,” he explained, steadying himself with one hand against the wall. “Got a little out of control. Flesh wound.”  
  
He grabbed his stomach and groaned in pain as he doubled over. “Still not used to…” Jack floundered for the right word before deciding on, “these hangovers.”  
  
The woman began advancing on him and Jack tried not to panic. He had been in worse situations than alone with two women in an alley. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he introduced himself. “How long you been there?”  
  
They remained silent and he shrugged his shoulders. “The silent type. I used to date a guy with no mouth. Surprisingly creative.”  
  
Before he knew it, the brunette placed her hands on his shoulders and kneed him in the stomach. Jack fell back on the ground, feeling the air leave his lungs, before the blonde straddled his chest.   
  
“Listen, you only had to ask,” he quipped. His blue eyes flickered to her groin. “Can we get a room though?”  
  
The rag she pressed over his mouth tasted disgusting and he couldn’t help gagging as his survival instincts kicked in and he tried to throw her off. She was too strong for him though and as his world began to go black once more, he could see the brunette standing behind her with a proud look on her face as she watched.  
  
~  
  
Jack jerked when he felt cold water being thrown over him. There was no squeezing of his heart this time, so he concluded that she hadn’t actually killed him, merely incapacitated him for a while.  
  
He glanced around and saw he was in a small area, which could only be described as a cell. “When I said about getting a room, I meant somewhere with linen!”  
  
The brunette threw another bucket of water over him, making him shudder; the second one was ever colder than the first.  
  
Jack watched as the blonde stalked over to him and tore his shirt open, revealing his dripping wet chest. “Time was electrodes to the nipples meant start of a good night,” he commented dryly as she attached said electrodes to his chest.  
  
The bolts of electricity that flew through his body were excruciatingly painful. Each time a current passed his heart, he could feel himself growing weaker and weaker and he knew it wouldn’t be long before his heart finally gave out.  
  
“Full power charge and still breathing!” she exclaimed, cutting of the electricity and looking at her partner.  
  
“Pretty advanced piece of equipment you got there,” Jack panted, trying to still his already erratic heartbeat. “You ladies are ahead of yourselves. Now where the hell am I?”  
  
Belatedly Jack realised the brunette had reached for a gun and was now pointing it in his direction. “Put that down before someone gets…”  
  
When he gasped back to life she rolled her eyes and set the gun aside. “Why aren’t you dead yet?”  
  
Jack glared at her and rattled his chains. “Been trying to figure that out myself.”  
  
“We’ve been monitoring you, been killed fourteen times in the last six months.”  
  
Fourteen times? Jack could have sworn he had been killed at least twice that many times recently. “Feels like more than that,” he admitted nonchalantly.  
  
“Who’s the Doctor?”   
  
Something inside Jack lit up and for the first time he realised why he had been taken hostage. Although he knew he couldn’t let them find out about the Time Lord, not before he had had a chance to fix whatever was broken inside Jack. “No idea,” he lied.  
  
Neither woman looked convinced with his answer and the younger of the two reached for a wad of paper. “ ‘The Doctor, he’ll be able to fix me’,” she began reading. “ ‘When the Doctor turns up, it’ll all be put right’. ‘You wait until I see the Doctor, first I’m going to kiss him, then I’m going to kill him.”  
  
“Transcripts of your conversations with strangers in various drinking dens since you first came to our attention.”  
  
As she spoke she edged closer and closer to Jack and with her last sentence she reached out and tightly pressed her hand over a certain part of his anatomy that was very sensitive.   
  
“You know, no one like a smart ass,” he replied, glaring at her.  
  
“Tell us where he is and we’ll release you?”  
  
“Why do you wanna know?”  
  
“You’re in Torchwood Cardiff,” the blonde advised him and Jack frowned looking around at his surroundings once more. He had heard rumours of Torchwood the last time he had been in Cardiff with the Doctor and Rose, something to do with Special Ops, local police had said, although what that was supposed to mean, he had no idea.  
  
“The Torchwood Institute was created to combat the threat posed by the doctor and other phantasmagoria.”  
  
Jack could feel a laugh building inside him and he couldn’t keep it inside; what she was saying was so ridiculous. “The Doctor’s not a threat,” he chuckled. “He’s the one who’ll save you from your phantasma-whojits.”  
  
“Just tell us his location.” The blonde moved to the electrocution machine once more and Jack felt a surge of panic go through him; he knew it wouldn’t kill him permanently, but it would hurt like hell.   
  
“I don’t know!” Jack cried with desperation in his voice. “He left me behind,” he whispered, feeling the familiar pang of abandonment. “I came here to find him; he refuels from that Rift you have. I figured if I stayed here long enough, we’d find each other.”  
  
He threw a pleading look at them and added, “Now, can I go?”  
  
The Brunette smirked, “No.”  
  
“You can’t keep me here,” Jack challenged.  
  
“Oh but we can,” the blonde argued. “Unless…”  
  
“Yes!” the younger female exclaimed, turning to face her partner with an excited look on her face. “Unless…”  
  
“Unless, what?” Jack asked, feeling almost too fearful to find out the answer.  
  
“There are opportunities here, at the Institute.”  
  
Jack blanched at the thought of working for Torchwood. If they had no problems trying – and succeeding to kill him – what else did they find acceptable? He might have once been a con-man and an expert at torture; but even he had standards. “I’m not for hire.”  
  
The look on the women’s faces could only be described as smug. “You’re going to need currency,” the brunette pointed out.  
  
Jack looked down at the chains binding him in dismay. In his mind he tried to run through his options; on one hand, he could say no and be tortured for the rest of his immortal life, but on the other, he could agree and become their hired help until he found the Doctor again.  
  
With a sigh he looked up, refusing to meet their gazes. “What’s the assignment?”


	11. Present Day

Present day  
  
Jack hadn’t seen Ianto all day and was starting to get worried about the Welshman.  
  
“Hey, Owen,” Jack called into the medical bay, “have you seen Ianto?”  
  
The medic didn’t even look away from whatever he was dissecting as he replied, “Nope.”  
  
The Captain heaved a sigh and turned on his heel, heading out of the bay and into the main Hub. “Tosh?” he asked, stepping up to the technician. “Can you bring up the heat signals for the Hub? I want to know…”  
  
“Where Ianto is,” Tosh finished for him, looking up at Jack with a smile. “There’s no need. He told me about an hour ago that he was going into the archives for a while.”  
  
Jack smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Thanks, Tosh,” he whispered, heading across the Hub to the door that lead to Ianto’s precious archives.  
  
“I wouldn’t go after him if I were you,” Tosh cautioned, stopping him in his tracks.   
  
Slowly Jack turned to face her with a look of confusion on his face. “Why’s that?” he asked carefully.  
  
“He said something about someone ‘colour co-ordinating’ the archives,” Tosh replied with a grin on her face.  
  
Jack flushed and smiled bashfully at her, before plastering a grin on his face. “I’d better go save him then, before we all have to suffer.”  
  
She laughed and shook her head as he headed through the door to find his lover.  
  
Ianto was hidden deep inside the archives and it took Jack a while to find him. When he eventually did, he had to smile when he saw the younger man sitting cross-legged on the floor with a large box open in front of him; he looked like a curious little boy on Christmas morning.  
  
“Having fun?” Jack asked, crossing the room and sitting on the floor next to him.  
  
Ianto looked up in surprise, not having heard the Captain behind him. “What are you doing down here?” he demanded, narrowing his eyes in suspicion; Jack and archives did not mix well.  
  
Jack laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. I was just looking for you; I have absolutely no intention of trying to help.”  
  
When Ianto expelled a sigh of relief, Jack glared at him. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered, a pout forming on his face.  
  
Ianto stared at him incredulously. “I have two words for you, Jack; colour coding,” he said, slowly and clearly.  
  
The other man shrugged his shoulders apologetically before changing the subject. “What are you doing?” he asked, pointing to the box in front of him.  
  
Ianto blinked and looked at the box as though he had forgotten it was even there. “Oh, nothing,” he said quickly, placing the lid on the box and moving to get up. “Just organising,” he mumbled.  
  
Jack placed a hand on his arm, stopping Ianto from getting to his feet. “What is it?” he asked, curious as to what Ianto was hiding from him; and a little hurt that he was spilling all his secrets and Ianto was lying to him.  
  
The youngest member of Torchwood Three watched as Jack lifted the lid off the box and pulled out the topmost file.  
  
“ ‘Emily Holroyd’,” he read from the front of the folder. “Ianto, what are you…?”  
  
“I… I wanted to know what they looked like,” Ianto admitted. “To put a face to the bitches,” he added, as much venom in his voice as possible. “I can’t believe they’d treat you like that.”  
  
Jack smiled and placed the file back in the box, sealing it once more. “They were Torchwood,” he pointed out. “That was the mentality they had back then.”  
  
“Doesn’t make it right,” Ianto insisted stubbornly.  
  
“No, it doesn’t,” Jack agreed, placing a hand under Ianto’s chin and turning his head so their eyes met. “But, you don’t have to worry about me, Ianto,” he murmured, running his thumb over the Welshman’s cheekbone. “I survived and I’m here now.”  
  
Ianto rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried about you,” he retorted. “Well, I am, but I wanted to know about them so I know who to hate. And whose body to look for when I bring them back from the dead.”  
  
Jack opened his mouth to instruct Ianto to do no such thing, before rolling his eyes when he realised he was joking.   
  
“The transcripts aren’t in here,” Ianto added after a moment of silence. He nodded to the box still in front of them.  
  
“I destroyed them as soon as I could without getting caught,” Jack admitted. “That’s where all those pictures of me came from. They were on my files; I kept those for myself before burning all the information they’d collected about me.”  
  
Ianto smiled and leant over, pressing his lips against Jack’s softly. “I love the picture of you in your uniform,” he murmured against the Captain’s mouth.  
  
Jack groaned a little at the suggestive tone in Ianto’s voice. “I’ve still got the uniform,” he confessed, kissing Ianto a little deeper, “if you want to see.”


End file.
